The Last Remaining Light
by Liz Huisman
Summary: Swords and other weaponry are not the only ways to kill a man, Boromir.


Title: The Last Remaining Light  
  
Author: Liz Huisman  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Disclaimer: None of the characters in this story belong to me; that honor goes to the J.R.R. Tolkien and his estate. [insert weakly funny and/or clichéd variations of "I'm just borrowing them." here]  
  
Spoilers: N/A  
  
Summary: "Swords and other weaponry are not the only ways to kill a man, Boromir."  
  
A/N: Well, it's been a long time since I've done anything Tolkien. Been quite a while since I've done anything of supposed substance, actually. I was thinking of creating a new ff.net profile, to leave behind what I've written in the past (I'm completely unhappy with 90% of it now, and would like to think that I've moved past that), but, I rather like this name (and my 2001 registration date). So, if you've been around for a few years and read my past work. I hope this is better.  
  
It's an AU concerning out favorite Captains of Gondor and their father, the Steward. This could fit absolutely nowhere in canon, as you'll see near the end. Don't try and figure out how this would change the course of the events in The Lord of the Rings. just take this as-is. (And forgive + correct me if my distances are off.) It's something that's been playing in my mind for a few days now, and I hope it merits writing. Enjoy.  
  
_____  
  
"Find the Steward's son!"  
  
The men of the small company that had followed Boromir, eldest son and heir of the ruling Steward Denethor, quickly came off their horses and began to dig through the dead bodies littered on the ground. It was only by the efforts of a lone messenger, sent on orders of Faramir, Captain of the Rangers of Ithilien, that news of the attack had reached Boromir, stationed in Osgiliath at the moment, so quickly.  
  
"They are overrun by Orcs! If help does not come, and come quickly, they will be slaughtered, all of them, and the land controlled by Orcs. It is only by the grace of Eru that I have made it to you, my Lord, with the message of the Lord Faramir. Will you not come?"  
  
Boromir remembered the rushed words of the messenger, heard only yesterday. He gathered what men Osgiliath could spare at the moment, and left the city in the charge of his second-in-command as he rode for the south of Ithilien in an attempt to aid his brother and his brother's men, though he had not much hope for the Rangers. It was a day's ride from Osgiliath to the land besieged by Orcs, and Boromir pushed his men to ride hard and arrive as quickly as possible.  
  
The ground there was littered with both the dead bodies of Orcs and men. Boromir knew not how long the battle had lasted, or if there were more Orcs waiting in the trees for a chance to attack, but cared not for the moment. After first seeing the scene, he had no hope that his brother could be found alive yet, but at least, his body could be recovered and given the burial that he deserved. After shouting the order, he got off his own horse and began to turn over dead bodies, hoping to soon find that of Faramir's. His heart ached a little more every time he turned a body over and did not see the face of his brother. He began to move to the inner area of the clearing, when he spotted a familiar bow lying on the ground- Faramir's bow, cracked in the middle. He knelt down and picked the bow up, running his fingers over the damaged wood. The bow was of Elven make, one that Faramir had received as a gift from the mysterious Mithrandir two years previous, one that he knew his brother cherished and was proud of. He kept it in his left hand as he crawled to the nearby body of a man, and rolled it over.  
  
The pale face of Faramir met him.  
  
"Oh, Faramir." he moaned softly, throwing the bow aside and gathering his brother up in his arms. He wiped the blood-streaked hair out of his brother's face, and cupped his cheek. To his amazement, his brother stirred.  
  
"Faramir, can you hear me?"  
  
Boromir watched as his brother struggled to open his eyes. "Faramir, I'm here. Your brother's here!"  
  
"Boromir," Faramir whispered, meeting Boromir's gaze. "You shouldn't be here. Father would be highly upset."  
  
Boromir shook his head. "I care not what he would say right now. your messenger arrived during a lull. I took only what men Osgiliath could spare and rode hard to this place. But that matters not now, what matters is that we get you back to Minas Tirith." He made a move to get up, but felt a hand on his arm.  
  
"Brother, I won't be going back to Minas Tirith."  
  
This was said with such a tone that it chilled Boromir. "No, little brother, you will. you will not die here!" He realized that many of his men were now watching the two of them. He turned his head quickly and ordered, "Find any others that may be alive! Do so quickly, for then we ride to Minas Tirith!" He looked back down at the pale face of his brother. "I will get you to the healers there, Faramir. You will be back up before you know it!" He moved once more to get up, but again, his brother was holding him there.  
  
"I cannot go back."  
  
The thought of his father, the Steward, flashed in his head. "Faramir, if what you fear is father's reaction."  
  
"I failed him here, brother. he would only wish that I were dead, after failing him so severely."  
  
"Faramir!" Boromir ached at the words spoken by his brother. "Is the fear of father reason enough to die?" He waited for a response, but none came. "Faramir!"  
  
"He's killing me, Boromir."  
  
This response shocked Boromir. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Swords and other weaponry are not the only ways to kill a man, Boromir. You don't. you don't understand what it's like."  
  
Boromir could hear his brother struggling to speak. "Faramir, I-"  
  
"I've tried to numb it for years, brother, and it's worked, for I had you. But not anymore. there's too much to fill. I haven't felt happy for many months, brother. I've only felt cold inside. I wished for immediate death when the arrow pierced my chest. but I am glad for seeing you once more, Boromir."  
  
Boromir stared at his younger brother in disbelief. "Surely you don't mean what you say. do not say you wish to die!" he exclaimed. "How can I make it better for you? Just tell me how, and I will do it."  
  
"You can't. there is none who can, not anymore. Too long."  
  
Boromir tightened his grip on his brother. "You break my heart to pieces. this is not the brother I know! Please, let me help you to Minas Tirith," he pleaded once more. "I will take leave of my men for a few days, against father's wishes and orders if it be so. I'll do anything."  
  
"I don't want that, brother. I want to know peace, and if I go back, I will not have it. There's nowhere I can get it. being here with you, right now, is the closest I will get. just stay with me, brother. That's what I ask."  
  
Boromir was torn. he desperately wanted to get his brother home, and get him healed. but he could clearly see the thought of going home tortured his brother. He resented his father at that moment, more than he had ever in his life. This was his doing.  
  
He turned his head to his men. "Take all the wounded you can to Minas Tirith, those who can still be saved!" he ordered, but made no movement to get up. He summoned one of the men without an injured soldier on him. "Lead the men to the city, Bangard."  
  
"And what of you, Captain?"  
  
"I will ride shortly."  
  
Bangard nodded, though Boromir was sure he did not fully understand. "Send word to the Steward for me, that I will be returning hours behind you."  
  
Bangard nodded once more, bowed, and led the men away to Minas Tirith, leaving Boromir alone with Faramir.  
  
He looked down at his brother, and saw relief in his eyes. "Faramir. I do this against my will."  
  
"I know, and. I love you for it."  
  
Boromir bit back at the tears forming in his eyes. He knew now that this was the end, truly, and did not want it to be so. "I never prepared for a day such as this. I guess I never thought it could happen. And now that it is. there's so much I'd have you know, brother, but there's not time."  
  
"The only thing that matters is that I go with your love."  
  
"And you do, you do!" A single tear escaped and rolled down Boromir's face.  
  
There was a long moment of silence that passed between the brothers. It was Faramir who finally broke it.  
  
"Right before mother died, she told me that it was perhaps a worse fate, to die of a broken heart or an empty soul than to die upon a blade or an arrow in battle. I didn't understand it then, but now I do."  
  
"Faramir." Boromir whispered. "Father loves you. he just needs to remember it." Boromir had to believe that their father loved Faramir, in some way.  
  
"And maybe he will, but it's much too late. Boromir, when you see him, tell him I did love him. and tell him goodbye for me."  
  
Boromir nodded as tears fell freely down his face. The end was near, now, for his brother. he felt his heart ripping apart.  
  
"Boromir. you'll never understand what you've meant to me all of these years, or how much I did love you. Don't grieve too long. Gondor needs you still."  
  
Boromir could sense his brother's breathing was becoming more labored. "Faramir. please, not yet." He watched as his brother struggled to stay conscious.  
  
"Boromir. I'll see you again."  
  
Boromir took a hold of Faramir's hand, and squeezed it tightly as Faramir's eyes closed. "I love you Faramir. I love you."  
  
Faramir went limp in Boromir's arms. Boromir bent over, crying into his brother's battered leather armor. He couldn't stop the tears from flowing.  
  
The sun was low in the west now, and gently, he picked up his brother's body from the ground. He lifted him onto his horse, and held him to his chest as he slowly made for Minas Tirith.  
  
END 


End file.
